


Staircase Fuck

by Feredil



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:18:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feredil/pseuds/Feredil
Summary: ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* SPOILER ALERT - SEASON 5, EPISODE 9 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Francis Underwood takes Eric Rawlings to his secret smoking nook in the White House. After a rather intense choking scene, the camera pans away from what is most likely to become a gay sex scene between the president elect and his personal trainer. But what really happened? Well, here is my take on things. Hope you'll enjoy!





	Staircase Fuck

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is about sex. Except sex, which is about power.  
> \- Francis Underwood

He stood there with his back turned towards Eric, his head cocked to one side, listening to his movements like a cat pretending not to have noticed the mouse. When his personal trainer put his hands on his shoulders from behind, he lowered his gaze. Encouraged by the lack of resistance, Eric slipped his right hand beneath the president’s tuxedo. Francis leaned back into his body ever so slightly, letting two seconds pass. Without changing his posture, he asked:

„What are you doing?“

„I’m sorry“, Eric said, chuckling. 

Francis remained stoic. 

The hands paused. The smile faltered. Eric frowned and stepped back. Francis turned to look at him. He advanced on his personal trainer with an unreadable almost-smile.

„And what are you sorry about?“ There was menace to his quiet voice.

Eric stared at him, his mouth quivering. He kept on retreating, Francis kept on pursuing, until Eric felt the first step of the spiral staircase press into his Achilles heals. They came to a halt.

„I...thought you...wanted something that you don’t...“, Eric stuttered.

„So what is it that you think I wanted?“

„We...we can go back up. I...I’m really sor-“

Francis’ hand on his throat silenced him.

„You know what they say? The most vulnerable part of a human body...“ He paused, searching his eyes. „Is the throat. And that you never really know how you feel about somebody...“ He entered the first step, evening out their difference in height. His grip intensified, and so did the pause. „Until they have their hand...around your throat.“

His fingers began alternating the pressure, like he was stroking him, but the touch remained firm, bordering on painful. Their faces were so close, their lips almost touched. Hot breath caressed Eric as Francis said: „How do you feel now?“, easing his hand slowly away, trailing his fingers along the younger man’s carotid artery. 

Francis’ hand travelled over his collar, down his shirt, grazing a nipple, finally settling on the rim of his trousers but not stopping there. His fingers found their way past the closed belt, cupping his growing erection, staring him down.

Eric gasped quietly. His hand came up behind Francis’ head.

„Congratulations Mr. President“, he groaned, leaning in for the kiss, like a drowning man trying to breathe.

Francis let him suffer for a second longer, being utterly unresponsive. Then he slowly raised his hand to his neck, stroking it while their tongues intertwined.

The kiss was quiet and languid. Francis opened Eric’s belt and pulled his trousers and underwear down to his knees in one swift motion. Eric chuckled nervously again, standing exposed in the cold air, his erection pointing upwards. The president took his dick into a firm grip and stimulated him like a man who knew how to please another man. Eric’s moans grew louder.

„If you don’t keep it down, I will have to shut you up“, Francis promised in his congressional voice, rubbing the head of his penis with his thumb. Eric whimpered. The petting sped up.

„Mr. President, I’m close!“

„Already? Today’s youth has no discipline.“ He roughly turned him around, but he was smiling, and he was still stroking him relentlessly.

„If you sully my clothes, I will have to end you.“

Eric went to his knees in the dark, on the metal staircase. Francis bent over him from behind, still fully clothed.

„Control yourself“, he whispered into Eric’s ear. „Or have you no self-respect? Even as a teenager, I could last longer than two minutes.“

Francis looked over his shoulder, addressing you: „I did not. My first time was with a prostitute, and I didn’t even get to stick it in her. I came in my trousers the minute I saw her naked tits. It was pathetic. Proud to say, my stamina has improved considerably since then.“

„Aaah...ah...ah...I’m sorry, Mr. President!“, Eric groaned.

„So you keep saying, Eric, but for Christ’s sake, just hold back! You don’t have to be sorry if you do as you’re told!“ Francis licked a finger and put it against Eric’s anus.

„Oh, god!“ Eric’s face contorted, and he came on the stairs in a heaving, sobbing mess. „I’m so sorry! I didn’t meant for it to be over so fast.“

Francis used his clean hand to calmly fish for a linen handkerchief, embroidered with his initials. He took his time to wipe the come off his hand, finger by finger.

„Well, at least you got nothing on my clothes“, he commented.

Eric was still on all fours, panting, his trousers at his ankles.

„So, is this all you think I wanted?“ Francis asked, looking down at the half-naked man. He threw the sullied handkerchief at his feet.

„No! I didn’t think...“ Catching his expectant look, he reached for the president’s crotch.

Francis observed him, as he fumbled with the belt.

„The fly will suffice.“

„Of course!“ He undid the zipper, groping for the president’s member behind the silken briefs, realising his balls were completely shaven.

„Claire likes it that way“, Francis said, smiling as Eric winced. „Go ahead, put it in your mouth. It won’t bite.“ Again he looked over his shoulder: „But I might.“

He leaned back against the staircase’s spine, closing his eyes as Eric’s wet mouth found him.  
„I want you to take me deep. Can you do that?“

„I’ll try, sir!“ It sent a jolt down Francis’ dick. He liked his men the way he liked his opponents – helpless, vulnerable and ready to be fucked hard.

His fingers gently ruffled Eric’s hair, to let him build up a rhythm, before he got a firm grip on his head, pushing himself ball’s deep.

„Yeah, that’s it!“, he encouraged, as he heard Eric gag, imagining he was shoving his dick down Heather Dunbar’s throat, teaching her about his version of feminism. „Keep going! Keep going!“ Urgency disturbed the calmness of his voice. His back arched off the staircase.

„I’ll need you to swallow, Eric. They can’t find the president’s sperm in these hallways. Or on you...for that matter. Is this going to be a problem?“ He pulled his dick out of the man’s drooling mouth to let him answer.

„No, sir. Of course not!“, Eric panted. 

Francis put his dick back in, before he could say any more.

 

He rode him hard and fast. He could tell Eric was not used to being deep-throated. For Francis, it heightened the experience. He liked a little surprise, a little resistance and pain, better than he liked the flexibility of a cock whore. It had been the same with Meechum. The thought of his dead bodyguard almost cost him his erection. He banged his fist against the staircase. It rang with a hollow sound. Eric flinched, pulling back.

„Did I hurt you?“

„It takes more than that to hurt me, Eric. Go ahead, take me back in, I’m almost there.“

With iron will he steered his thoughts away from his deceased friend and the intimacy they had shared. He thought of Claire, of the times when they had still slept together on a regular basis. He thought of ejaculating in president Petrov’s face. It worked.

Just before he came, he looked down on his personal trainer, whose eyes were watering from the fuck. He no longer needed a fantasy, because right then and there, his semen flooded another man’s throat. And just as he had been told, this man swallowed all he had to give, and Francis liked that a lot.

He convulsed for a few more, pleasurable seconds, then pulled out, completely spent, allowing Eric to cough and take deep, ragged breaths.

He smoothed a tear over the other’s face, then grabbed his chin to pull him to his feet.

„Come here“, he said, sealing Eric’s lips with a searing kiss.

Then he stepped away, re-zipping his fly and rearranging his jacket.

„You wait ten minutes, then you follow me out. And get rid of that handkerchief“, he said, without turning back. His shoulders squared, he was once again completely in control of everything, leaving behind a half-naked man with a tissue drenched in his own come, and a throat that would be sore for a few days. He smiled, because he knew Eric was confused about the ambivalence of the encounter, but would soon be coming back for more. 

He was heading straight for the bathroom, but changed his mind last second, turning around to shake a few hands first.


End file.
